For 15 of my 20 years of watching the Chiefs there was nothing but frustration. Now, in the best times of franchise history, it all feels surreal.
Born into Chiefs fandom in 1996, my first vivid memory of Kansas City football was formative. The 2003-04 Divisional Round loss to Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts is the first time I felt an emotional attachment to the team—and it left a mark. I remember my dad’s devastation and my suggestion that we would “get ’em next year.” His response was candid, “No, son, we won’t.”
From there, the gang I grew up on—Trent Green, Tony Gonzalez, Dante Hall & Co.—slowly dissipated into a nightmarish quarterback carrousel and a near decade of regular season misery and spotty postseason heartbreaks. Between Damon Huard, Brodie Croyle, Tyler Thigpen, and Brady Quinn, the first home loss of the ’03 season was followed by eight years that convinced me I’d never see a winning team in Kansas City.
I grew up in south Texas, so pops and I were regulars in a sports bar where the Chiefs always had a screen. The Kingdom was rarely blessed with a national broadcast in those days. I specifically remember sitting in the same booth for all 16 games of the 2008 season. Herm Edwards led the team to a 2-14 record, and we had no choice but to sincerely celebrate the first downs that were few and far between. We sat through all 60 minutes of every abysmal performance of that year and it truly didn’t seem as if things could get any worse. Then 2012 happened.
That year brought another 14-loss season, and even worse, the Jovan Belcher tragedy. It’s hard to put into words the pain that Chiefs Kingdom—and the franchise as a whole—was feeling at that time. We had been at rock bottom just four seasons prior, and now, somehow, we had sunk even lower. None of us knew it, but we were in the darkest days of that decade. The light at the end of that horrendous tunnel was rapidly approaching.
It was a Big Red light that led us forward rather than bringing us to a complete stop.
We now sit in year 10 of the Andy Reid era, with seven-straight AFC West titles to our name, and zero divisional finishes lower than second. The Chiefs are 10-7 in the playoffs over this stretch, have won a Super Bowl, and made two championship appearances. We’ve got the most exciting quarterback of all time under center, and years seem to fly by with a predominant tone of pure joy. Last week’s Divisional Round victory over Jacksonville slowed things down for me a bit, though. The fact that the AFC’s fifth consecutive championship game was held at Arrowhead Stadium made all of those old memories come rushing back.
Twenty years ago, I was just a kid blindly following my dad into year after hellishly painful year of Chiefs football. I still fell in love with this team, that stadium, and the most enthusiastic fanbase in the NFL. Even at times when there wasn’t even a glimmer of hope for the future, being a Chiefs fan meant being a part of something—something that is rich in history and founded in passion. Now, as an adult, being able to experience the unthinkable success of this franchise with my dad still by my side makes every hiccup and speed bump along the way feel completely worth it.
There are a dozen different narratives circling Sunday night’s AFC championship in Kansas City, but I’m struggling to veer my focus away from how lucky we are to be here for it. Five straight battles for the Lamar Hunt trophy in the house that he built. What a time to be a part of Chiefs Kingdom.